


Tell Me When

by drakarifire



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Explicit Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, i don't know what to tell you, they curse a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakarifire/pseuds/drakarifire
Summary: Richie and Eddie spend a night in, Eddie asks some important questions.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 138





	Tell Me When

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Argella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argella/gifts).



> My fic for the It Fandom Exchange on Tumblr!

“Alright, alright Trashmouth!” Eddie’s hands are up, half empty beer dangling from his right. “If you were so sure, then when did you know?” 

Richie snorted, his own beer nestled in his lap. “Are you seriously asking me when I realized I had a crush on you?” 

“Yeah, well-” Eddie opened his arms out in a challenge, face flushed from the drinks he’s already had that night. “You keep saying since we were kids and I’m calling bullshit.” 

Richie can’t help but laugh at that, elbow resting on his knee and body leaning forward to support his chin on his open palm. “I know. Hard to believe that I, Derry’s number one pussy slayer, was in fact very gay for one Mr. Edward Kaspbrak.” 

“Please. The closest you’ve been to a naked woman is Bev in her underwear.” 

“Ouch Eds.” He pointed with his free hand, “I mean you’re not wrong, but- ouch.” 

“C’mon. I’m serious.” Eddie straightened his legs out on the floor, enough to bump his socked foot against Richie’s knee. “When did you know? And be real with me Tozier, no jokes.” 

“Fuck. If I’d have known we’d be playing twenty questions tonight I’d have vetoed the booze.” He straightened, hands pressing against his face, pushing his glasses up into his hairline. He could feel Eddie tapping at his knee with impatience and he grumbled low in his throat as a response. Hands dropping enough to let his glasses slide ( somewhat ) back into place. Just enough for him to glare at Eddie over the tops of his fingers. “Give me a goddamn minute. We only got these memories back like four months ago.” 

“Bullshit. You’re fucking stalling.” 

“So what the fuck if I am? It’s _embarrassing_.” 

“Please Rich. I want to knoooow.” 

Richie might have found it amusing, even borderline adorable, that tipsy Eddie got whiny. His cheeks flushed as he took another sip of his drink, shooting Richie a look that’d put the puppies in those adoption commercials to shame.He looked so comfortable, and far more at ease than Richie thinks he’s ever seen him, even back when they were kids. 

“Okay. Okay. Just- don’t fucking laugh at me.” 

“Absolutely no promises, but continue.” 

That earned Eddie a middle finger, which got Richie double the response back. 

  
Richie settled back against his couch, head tilting up towards the ceiling. He knew of course, how far back the crush went. Maybe not the exact date and time when he’d realized it, but he did know a vague enough answer. 

“Well, there’s that summer.” And sure, saying it like that’s kind of vague, but they all know what ‘that summer’ usually refers to. Sweet summer of ‘89 with its clown bullshit. “I was kind of ignoring it until then.” 

“The crush or the-” 

“Both.” Richie shrugged, nail scraping at the label on his beer. “Figured if I just never shut up about how much tail I was getting on the reg’ people wouldn’t notice, you know? Or I dunno, fake it till you make it, I guess.” He flinched, letting his head fall forward again but keeping his eyes squarely off of Eddie’s face. “It took Bowers being an asshole and the clown chasing me through Bassey as that fuck ugly lumberjack for me to think, ‘Hey dickhead. Maybe this is a thing.’” 

“So, what? When we were thirteen? That tracks I guess. You were extra annoying that year.” Richie might not have been looking at him, but he could _hear_ the expression on Eddie’s face. That frown of consideration that made the wrinkle between his brows more prominent. “Still not seeing the whole crush on me thing.” 

“Eh, I’m getting there.” He exhaled, shifting where he sat, lifting his beer to take another big sip. When the bottle was back in his lap he let his gaze drift, spacing out somewhere in the general area above Eddie’s head. This memory, unlike some of his others, was crystal clear and distinct. The very first one to hit him when he’d walked into the Jade and set eyes on Eddie for the first time. It was almost...too much to look at. The colors are too vibrant, the feel of the wood assaults the nerves at the end of his fingertips. He got a splinter that day and he can feel it now, like it’s been digging itself under his fingernail for the past twenty-seven years. It takes him a minute to wade through all of that to find his words again. “Remember the Kissing Bridge?” 

“Of course. Isn’t that where Bowers got Ben the day we met him.” 

Richie winces, and nods. “Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ on that, “Well, I didn’t go there to carve up new kids like Thanksgiving turkeys. Call me old-fashioned but I kind of prefered the original purpose.” 

“Oh God. Don’t tell me. You fucking didn’t.” 

“Oh yeah.” 

“Oh my God Rich.” Eddie snorted, “What the fuck.” 

Richie finally let his gaze drop to Eddie’s face only to find Eddie trying to muffle his laughter with the palms of his hands.

“Hey! I told you this was fucking embarassing!” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think- Jesus Christ Richie, the Kissing Bridge? Are you serious? You can’t be fucking serious.” 

“Fuck you.” He pointed a finger at Eddie, wagging it in the air between them. He’s trying to be serious but the grin on his face and the laughter in his voice is giving him away. “I thought it was fucking romantic, and it wasn’t like I was about to confess my undying love for your hyperactive ass.” 

“You’ve gotta be bullshitting me. There’s no fucking way. Nope. I don’t believe it.” Eddie’s head is shaking, and he’s leaning back on his hands. “You know I’m not about to step foot in that town again to check.” 

“Hah, but that’s where you’re mistaken. You don’t have to do shit. _I took a picture_.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Get ready to eat your words Kaspbrak.” Despite himself he was grinning as he shifted to pull his phone from his back pocket. Thumbing quickly to clear the screen of the avalanche of twitter notifications and angry messages from his manager. Pulling up his camera roll he pulled up the snapshot he’d taken of the Kissing Bridge just before he’d left town, his old carving done up fresh and standing stark against the wood. “Read it and weep, bitch.” 

Tipsy Eddie did not have the sort of hand eye coordination necessary to catch a phone but Richie tossed it anyway. Then laughed as the other man fumbled not to drop it before it flopped face down on his lap. Once he could actually look at his screen, Richie watched as his eyebrows did some complicated gymnastics routine on the upper part of his face, mouth turning down in a frown. 

“I can’t believe you’re serious.” He squinted, fingers moving to expand the picture, before he glanced back up. “This shit looks too fresh to be from 1989.” 

“Recarved it.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“Nope.” He brought his beer back up to his lips, drinking the last of what was left in one quick gulp. Tongue dragging out to lick his lips before continuing. “You almost died-” 

“But I didn’t.” 

“Right, but you didn’t.” He shrugged, “I don’t know, it just felt cathartic. I thought maybe if I carved it again I could just leave all those feelings there. Put them to rest.”  He gestured between them vaguely, “I didn’t think- I mean, I had every intention of keeping it to myself for the rest of forever.” He never once thought he’d be here, with Eddie. That talking about all this shit would be so _easy_ , embarrassing sure, but easy nonetheless. Because Eddie knew and Eddie was here, and despite everything Richie woke up with the man of his dreams half tucked under his side. 

Eddie was back to staring at the picture, only this time his face was all pinched in thought. “So that’s when you knew? When we were thirteen.” 

Richie moved, stretching to put his bottle on the coffee table, before settling back in his spot. “That’s when I accepted it. Realizing it was a lot more fucking embarrassing.” 

Eddie looked skeptical. “More embarrassing than carving our initials on Derry’s horny make-out spot?” 

“Remember the day we met?” 

“No! Richie- Richie we were six years old! No fucking way.” 

“I told you this shit was embarrassing!” 

“You were not in fucking love with me when we were six.” 

“Hey! You’re the one holding my phone. Go ahead, dial my mom, ask her! I swear on Ben’s perfect abs I told her I’d marry you the second she picked me up from daycare.” 

“I’m not- Richie it’s like 3 in the fucking morning where they are. No.” 

“Then you gotta take my word for it.” He lifted his hands, palms up towards the ceiling. “Your mom dropped you off and you looked so mad about it. I thought you were one of those kids who bursts out crying the second their parents left them alone, but nope! You were just pissed because everything was a mess.” He laughed, and this memory- this memory wasn’t like the other one. It was faded and delicate. When Richie picked it up he felt like he had to be careful or he’d risk tearing it apart, like an old piece of film. Bits and pieces shone through well enough, the things that he’d always liked about Eddie since the start. His loud, fast voice, and animated hand gestures. The way his fanny pack looked too big and cumbersome, especially back then when he was nothing but tiny hips and twiggy legs. 

The way he’d looked at Richie like he found everything he did physically repulsive, and yet didn’t pull away. Instead he’d clambered all over him, manhandled him into obedience so he could apply brightly colored bandages to the scrapes and bruises on Richie’s knees. All while yelling about cooties and calling him a dummy. 

He expected to hear Eddie laughing, but when he looked up, he was looking at Richie’s phone, thumb pressed lightly to the screen. 

“Eds? Spaghetti?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Absent and automatic, without bothering to look up. 

“Which one?” 

“Both, dipshit.” One eyebrow arching up as their gazes finally met for a moment, before Eddie was taking his beer and downing the last of it in a series of furious gulps. 

Exhaling, he set the empty bottle down next to Richie’s, and held the phone out. Not like he was handing it back, but so that Richie could see the screen. The picture had been shifted, zoomed in a little off to the side to show a different part of the screen. Another carving, faded with time but still visible. 

R, with a heart around it. 

“Eddie…” 

“For the record. It was that summer for me too.” When their eyes met over the phone Eddie’s were intense and focused. No signs of the alcohol in his system, though he was breathing a little harder. “You told me to look at you. You kept telling me to look at you instead.” 

They both swallowed, not really wanting to relive that moment, but finding it bursting through their defenses unbidden anyway. For Eddie it was the way the clown’s hand had felt on his face, the pain of his broken arm, and the smell of rancid breath washing over him. For Richie it was hearing Eddie scream, seeing the clown standing over him with drool dripping from IT’s jaws. 

Then it was just the two of them. Richie’s hands on Eddie’s face, his voice yelling at him to look away. Just like it was the two of them right now, only instead of chaos and children screaming, the world was quiet, like it was holding its breath. 

“I can’t believe you gave me shit. You’re just as big a sap as I am.” Richie’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. 

Eddie just smiled, pushing up onto his knees so he could close the distance between them. Dropping Richie’s phone in his lap, before lifting that same hand to tilt up Richie’s chin. “You’d probably think I was body snatched if I didn’t give you shit, admit it.” 

“Touche.” 

Eddie’s head lowered, Richie could taste the beer on his breath and it made him feel drunker than any of the alcohol he’d had that night. Light-headed and wanting. Head tilting to the side to accommodate the kiss he felt like he’d die without. 

“One more question.” 

“Jesus Christ, Kaspbrak. You’re going to kill me.” He groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. This close he could feel Eddie’s laughter like the rumble of a distant thunderstorm vibrating the air between their bodies. 

“Do you still love me?” 

Richie’s head snaps back up slightly, one eyebrow trying valiantly to reach his hairline. His hands had settled on Eddie’s waist, but now he let them slip down the rough fabric of his jeans. Giving him a brief pat on the ass, before he hooked the back of his thighs and guided Eddie into his lap. “Eddie my love, that is the stupidest question I’ve ever heard.” 

“That’s not an ans-” 

Richie can only hope that the kiss they share, just like every kiss that came before and all the ones he prays are still to come, will be answer enough. When they pull apart it’s with Eddie’s hands cradling his face, and a dopey smile slowly spreading across Richie’s features. “I love you Eddie Kaspbrak.” 

Eddie beams, actually beams, and Richie feels his heart stutter. “I love you too Richie Tozier.” 

“Sap.” 

“Oh fuck off, Trashmouth.” 


End file.
